Would I Be Addicted
by overdosingonyou
Summary: "What would your limits be?" Blaine asks, a hint of something almost fascinated seeping into his voice. Blaine/Kurt. Warning: heavy total control/ownership themes.


Established future Blaine/Kurt. Consensual Dom/sub relationship, bondage, humiliation, pain.

**Would I Be Addicted**

**by overdosingonyou**

The sound of the door opening brings Kurt's drifting thoughts back together. He has been floating pleasantly somewhere between sleep and awareness, and the sudden push back down to earth hurts in more ways than one.

There is a dull ache in his arms and shoulders. His arms are pulled over his head and secured tightly to the curved metal of the headboard. He had made attempts, at first, to squirm further up towards the headboard to lessen the strain, but had eventually realized that it would have required his elbows to bend unnaturally and given up, resigning himself to the upcoming cramps.

At least the rest of his body is semi-comfortable. He had picked out the bed himself, queen-sized and with a mattress perfectly suited for their sleep-habits and relatively similar weights. He regrets the bedspread, however; it is a nice dark gray but the rough wool is starting to irritate the skin of his naked back and buttocks. He wishes Blaine would have removed it, at least, because the high thread count sheets would have felt heavenly right now; however, he knows that complaints would merely result in good-natured teasing over his sensitive skin.

As Kurt squirms, his mind is brought to the odd sensation of skin being pulled in his pubic area.  
The clothespins pinching the skin of his scrotum, three on each outer edge, do not provide that sharp pain anymore, but the sensation is still unpleasantly tight, almost numb, and his balls feel tender.

The scarf around his eyes does not cut out all the light. If he forces his eyes open against the cloth he can see light seeping in at the bridge of his nose, but it effectively hinders any real vision. Thus, Kurt cannot see who has opened the door, or why. He would have expected Blaine, of course, but as the door swings open with a slight creak, he realizes, mortified, that what he had thought to be the TV or radio in the other room must be actual people in their living room. Strangers, because Kurt does not recognize the voices.

They do not bring other people into their play very often. A disastrous attempt at a threesome early on in their relationship being the prime example of _why not_. Blaine is a bit _too_ attentive to everyone's need and Kurt, in response, is frankly too prone to jealousy for it to be a very good idea.

Admittedly, they have upped the game quite a bit since that first attempt.

Kurt is learning, quite well by now, to mentally step back, pretty much giving everything of himself over to Blaine, but there is still something unpleasant, nagging, at the thought of Blaine allowing someone else to see Kurt like this.

The door closes.

Kurt feels a flush begin and he squirms again, unable to tell if there is someone else in the room with him right now, or even who it might be.

With nothing else to do, he has to wait.

* * *

They had broken up for two years after high school as a mutual agreement because they had both been stupidly certain that high school romances were not supposed to last. Maybe they were also both a bit curious about the freedom to experiment.

It should have been odd, the way they gravitated towards each other. Getting together again had been as easy as their break-up. Just picking up where they had left off.

Maybe their high-school selves had not been completely familiar with the lifestyle, but Kurt _had_known the feeling of Blaine pressing him into the mattress, a mix of playful and dominant in response to Kurt's usual mix of frustration, shyness and brattiness, long before he allowed Blaine to tie him up the first time.

It had progressed rather naturally, honestly, with a few bumps and a certain amount of awkward conversations. Before, it used to tear at his pride, the way he allowed Blaine to take command, the way he _liked_ it. Now he settles into it relatively well.

Maybe a sign of maturity, in its own way.

* * *

When Kurt hears footsteps approach the bed, his body tenses automatically to prepare for any sort of touch; instead, he finds himself blinking and squinting against the sharp daylight as the blindfold is pulled away from his eyes.

Black spots dance in his vision painfully as he tries to adjust, but through them, Kurt sees Blaine standing over him, his eyes wide with the same fascination that he had shown a while ago when he had first arranged Kurt like this. It sort of makes Kurt feel like a display of some kind, not a bad feeling per se, but it makes his heart flutter uncertainly. He tugs at his bonds automatically, their restriction suddenly almost overwhelming.

"How long?" he asks, trying for a steady voice. The light through the window is different than it had been then; he honestly has no idea how long it has been since his mind had started to drift.

"Just an hour and a half. Thirsty?"

Kurt notices for the first time that Blaine is carrying a water bottle and he nods faintly. Blaine unscrews the cap, tilting it carefully to allow Kurt a sip. Some water drips down his chin and cheek; it is surprisingly frustrating not to be able to dry it off. Blaine does not bother with it. He sets the bottle on the bedside table and Kurt feels the bed shift lightly as he sits.

"You okay?"

He starts tracing some sort of pattern over Kurt's chest, light and teasing, watching Kurt squirm as it tickles.

"Mhm," Kurt replies distractedly. "Who is there with you?"

"Oh, just some friends," Blaine replies airily. "No one you know, but you'll meet them later."

His stomach churns. "Not like this."

He is naked, tied up on the bed. His scrotum, still pinched by several clothespins, making him a humiliating picture that Blaine loves, that Kurt has learned to love, but everyone, anyone else? He tugs against his bonds.

"Shh." Blaine presses his hand down on Kurt's chest, simultaneously calming and somewhat further immobilizing him. "You're not in a position to protest, are you?"

"Please." He is really not above begging. "Not like _this_."

"They're in the community, Kurt. Nothing will be a surprise to them. Don't worry." Blaine looks at him calmly and it is obvious he will not give in unless Kurt says the safe-word; which he will not, because even though Kurt's cock had softened from the pain and lack of stimulation, he is starting to grow hard again despite himself, the clothespins pinching oddly as his erection rises.

"Want me to gag you?" Blaine continues after a moment. He brushes his hand down Kurt's stomach, dipping one finger into his bellybutton, watching as Kurt's stomach quivers slightly. "That way you really won't have to do anything."

Kurt hesitates for a moment before nodding, feeling oddly grateful, and allows Blaine to fit the ball-gag into his mouth.

* * *

"What would your limits be?" Blaine asks, a hint of something almost fascinated seeping into his voice. Something about it causes Kurt to blush. He looks away delicately, as if that would somehow help him escape his embarrassment.

"Nothing that leaves permanent marks," he says carefully. "My skin is far too perfect to be blemished."

He tries for a joking tone, but it comes out rather lamely, or so he thinks; Blaine chuckles nonetheless, the sound like a warm caress against the exposed skin of Kurt's neck.

"What about pain?" Blaine pushes, and the mere suggestion does something to Kurt. He feels cold, then warm, then finally much too empty, like there is something lacking about what they are doing right now, and he feels small tickling tremors running over his skin like shivers, but almost controllable. His heart is beating like a rabbit's, fast and light, and he shifts his head to inhale the calming scent that is all Blaine.

"Pain is fine," he replies.

* * *

Blaine leaves shortly afterward, but Kurt finds himself unable to slip back into his relaxed state of mind. His body tingles restlessly and the resulting inability to keep from squirming causes all of his pains to worsen; even the clothespins keep sending sharp stabs of pain to his gut, making him press the soles of his feet into the mattress in frustration. And yet his body betrays him at the pain, or maybe it is his precarious position, his helplessness, because he remains half-hard.

As the door opens again, his body is taut enough that he does not flinch.

Blaine, ever the gentleman, holds the door open and waves two women inside.

One of them is blonde, short-haired and, most notably, has three piercings in her lower lip and one in her right eyebrow. A shorter woman follows her into the room, although something about her seems off. She keeps her eyes on the floor although her head is kept high by a broad collar. Kurt blinks as he realizes that she is actually, probably, the blonde's submissive, lover, or both. It is a mild relief that Blaine had not been lying about them being in the life-style, but it does not help too much. Kurt is, after all, the one naked and tied to the bed right now, which makes him lower than the submissive girl.

"He's precious," the woman says, her eyes roaming Kurt's body. He feels his cheeks heat up at the inspection and has to stop himself from folding his legs up to cover himself, certain that it would make him look even more ridiculous. He can not remember the last time someone except Blaine had seen him naked. Somehow it is even worse since it is a woman. The only women who have seen him naked _ever_ are the occasional doctors and nurses.

Blaine beams at her while Kurt squirms in mortification. "You can unpack the instruments on the bedside table. I'll prepare him a bit."

Even through his conflicted thoughts, Kurt feels a tug of indignant curiosity. He follows the short-haired woman with his eyes, trying to get a glimpse of what she is doing, but a hand on his balls distracts him. He looks back to find Blaine smiling at him indulgently.

"I think these have been on long enough, haven't they?" He flicks one of the clothespins with a finger. Kurt groans into the gag as the numbness transforms into painful stabs, almost like electricity Then he hisses, unable to help himself, as Blaine removes the clothespins one by one. Kurt is good with pain, usually, but as the tender skin is released the numbness disappears, sending sharp jets of pain up to his gut. He presses his feet into the mattress, focusing his stare on the ceiling.

As the clothespins are laid aside, Blaine's hand fondles his balls carefully; pleasure and pain meeting directly and the contrast almost makes Kurt see stars. He whimpers against the ball-gag again, and he is certain his cock is now completely hard.

Beside him, the woman seems to have finished unpacking and as she moves out of the way, Kurt feels his stomach flutter at the glimpse. There are steel instruments that reminds him unpleasantly of something from surgical scenes in movies and TV-shows, and the white latex gloves that the woman is tugging on does not help the picture.

He almost panics, recoiling into the mattress. The familiar warm hand on his hip pulls him out of it before it goes to far, though, as effectively as anything. He looks up to meet Blaine's eyes.

"Shh," Blaine says softly. He uses both his hands to stroke up and down Kurt's hips and sides, the way one might soothe a skittish animal, and Kurt does feel like his too-loud heartbeat slows a little. He forces himself to steady his breathing. "It's nothing bad, I promise," Blaine continues. "And she is a professional. Trust me?"

Kurt is not sure if he nods or not, but something about his expression must have said something because the next thing he knows, Blaine nods to the woman.

She starts rubbing his chest with a paper towel, it smells faintly of something antiseptic, and the picture suddenly starts to make sense to Kurt. When she uses a scissor-like instrument to capture his hardened nipple, it falls into place.

* * *

"What do you think of piercings?" Blaine asks into Kurt's hair, running his hand over his arm lazily.

"Tacky," Kurt says immediately. He does not have to think about it, not really, although he _is_ a bit flummoxed as to why Blaine would even ask.

"Hm, really?" His hand stills, resting on Kurt's upper arm.

"Why?" Because there is something in Blaine's tone that almost makes Kurt feel bad for his snap judgment. Almost. His mind is taken over by images of pale teenagers with piercings that look like acne, and promptly feels a bit sick.

"It seems like it could be your style, is all. Something subtle and classy." Blaine sounds almost teasing.

Kurt shifts. "Piercings are rarely classy," he protests. "I can appreciate them in a certain style," The rough punk and rock-styles, black and red, lots of metal and silver accessories. "But you can't call them _classy_."

"I disagree."

Kurt rolls his eyes, although he knows that Blaine cannot see it. He tugs the duvet up, and snuggles back into Blaine's chest, just a little more. "What's this about, anyway? You're not thinking of getting one, are you?"

"No, not at all."

* * *

Despite his churning stomach, he forces himself to lie still. When he looks at Blaine, his eyes probably won't possibly be described as anything other than 'pleading', and he doesn't even know why. Blaine just smiles encouragingly and keeps petting his hip.

His vision blacks out as the needle pierces his nipple, and he bites down the best he can on the gag, grunting helplessly as the worst stabs of pain recedes into a duller throbbing. He is pretty sure his eyes are watering, but he keeps his gaze firmly on Blaine's face.

The second nipple is worse. He knows what to expect and his entire body tenses in preparation and he is pretty sure he is crying a little because _really_, couldn't one have been enough, at least?

Then, the woman is done and starts to pack briskly while Kurt is still trying to slow his breathing.

She is talking, saying something about how to avoid infection, healing processes, payments and accounts that does not really enter Kurt's mind at the moment, and Blaine replies something in his 'all-business' voice and, Kurt thinks, asks them to see themselves out. The woman leaves, sending them both a smile before taking the smaller girl's hand as they walk out together.

Then they're gone, and Blaine is leaning over him, working on the bonds; it takes a minute, then he helps Kurt lower his arms slowly, rubbing at his shoulders as Kurt's muscles scream in protest. When his arms are resting by his sides, the gag is tugged out of his mouth and his closes his mouth absently, jaw aching.

"You okay?" Blaine asks, his voice more concerned than it has been previously. He sounds worried, and Kurt realizes that he is staring dumbly. He blinks a few times, trying to gather his thoughts into some resemblance of coherency.

"I...think so?" He lifts one hand gingerly, his muscles still protesting at any sort of movement, and brushes tears away from his face. He feels a little lost, but at the same time, it is almost comforting. He recognizes this feeling, at least; it is a bit like he is coming down from a high. The adrenaline flow receding after a scene. He smiles unsteadily. "Not that much worse than usual, I don't think."

Blaine takes that as a cue for their regular procedure. He climbs onto the bed, settling his body beside Kurt's own; he is fully clothed and Kurt is not, which is humbling all in itself, but it is a familiar enough feeling by now. It is a bit awkward as Kurt cannot lie on his side because of his tender nipples, but Blaine settles so that he is facing him, placing one hand on his stomach as he presses his face into Kurt's hair.

"You okay?" he asks again, after a few minutes of quiet.

"Yes," Kurt replies slowly. His brain is starting to catch up and he glances down his chest, taking in the two small beaded rings in his nipples. It doesn't quite look like _him_ anymore, rather like someone else's chest. "I can't believe you did that to me."

"Hmm." Blaine exhales a warm puff of hair in Kurt's hair. "Now you'll think of me whenever you look at yourself."

His words would have been ridiculously cheesy, had it not been for the almost possessive edge in his voice that sends a tingle down Kurt's spine.

"I'll think of terror and mind-numbing pain, you mean."

But he can't help the pleasant twinge he feels, a warmth in his chest. His cock is suddenly sensitive against Blaine's thigh. He glances down his chest again, feeling oddly, proud? Thankful? He doesn't know. "I think I like it," he allows hesitantly.

"I knew I could make you see it my way," Blaine says, snuggling a little closer. He moves his hand idly up and down Kurt's stomach; Kurt closes his eyes and relaxes.

**the end**


End file.
